


When the Day Met the Night

by pennypixies



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Confrontations, Drabble Collection, Eventual Romance, Extended Metaphors, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, RWBY Relationship Week, Romantic Angst, Running Away, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-08 17:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennypixies/pseuds/pennypixies
Summary: Inevitably, those who follow will catch up to those who run. The sun will dance with the moon, and the day will turn to night. Only the stars bear witness to a story of their eclipse throughout the volumes.A series of collective drabbles for Blacksun Week 2018.





	1. all was golden in the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume One  
> Day One: Sunrise/Sunset (and/or) Beach Day

She stands at the edge of the docks. The wind calmly breathes on her face, whispering in her ear, caressing the strands of her raven hair and pulling them backward. If one stood still enough to feel the breeze, they would find that it was almost like a dance. It seemed to float, although that was not at all possible. It would pause, step forward, and then twirl again, almost as if it were a person.

 

She is tense, and her katana is locked in her hand as she bends her knees slightly. The smallest disturbance sets off alarms in her head, and the wind is just enough to do. The distinct scent of salt water fills the air, knotting the Faunus’ stomach. She turns her eyes apprehensively to the light-haired male beside her.

 

“You’re sure this is the place?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She sheaths her weapon, storing it in its usual place behind her back. Her right foot is still inches in front of her left, her narrowed gaze still darting to and fro, always watchful.

 

The simian has his hands behind his head. He ruffles his own cream-colored locks, which spike out in various directions, reminding her of his prehensile tail, which swishes back and forth. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He gives off a much more relaxed air, his stance and words both carefree. Even so, his hand drifts down to loosely grip his bo staff, folded into itself. “They’ll definitely be here, if they’re anywhere. I heard those guys talking about it, so if the Fang wants dust then they’ll come here.”

 

She exhales, turning her attention to the larger crates, of which there are only two unloaded thus far. “When will they show up?” She pauses, her throat tightening, “If they show at all.” A small voice knocks at the door to the back of her brain, reminding her of her own stupidity, her own naivety. She swallows, staring a little ways away, at the pavement below her feet.

 

She allows herself to hope.

 

“Whenever they finish unloading, I guess,” He shrugs. After receiving a glare from the girl, he quickly adjusts his statement. “Okay geez,” he scratches his collarbone absentmindedly as he speaks, eyes unfocused as a result of his thought, “Maybe, like, after the sun goes down?” His eyes meet hers, seeking validation.

 

She blinks, her gaze unwavering. She reaches out a hand, almost having to stand on her toes to reach his head. Once her palm lays flat, she pushes down with force, earning a yelp from the blonde. He quickly crouches to avoid more shoving, staring up at her indignantly, elbows resting on his thighs.

 

“What was that for?” He squawks, diving to the left and managing a perfect somersault before making his way to his feet. His eyes clash with hers again, and he cautiously approaches her, his hands on his hips, towering above her once more.

 

The almost-feline stares, her bow flicking tellingly. As her golden hues search his, she can’t tell if they’re steel gray or the blue of a glittering ocean. It doesn’t matter, because all she sees is the entire world flashing through them. She notices that he is bright. His hair is like a halo, and it gleams as if there’s a prism reflecting onto it. He is illuminated as the sun descends, filling the sky with shades of amber and gold. She allows her mind to wander further.

 

She decides that his name- Sun- fits him.

 

She blinks again, managing to bite back her smile and keep her voice level, her expression placid. “When the sun goes down,” she repeats, deadpanning. She folds her arms over her chest coolly. She can’t help it, feeling a bit proud of herself, and she smirks as his eyes widen in realization.

 

He scoffs, although he beams as well. “Oh, ha ha.” Sarcasm fills his voice while he plucks at the collar of his open jacket. She doesn’t miss the pink tinge that settles on his face. His head snaps back to her, his tail flicking to attention. “Wait, did you just make a joke?” The twinkle in his eyes takes on actual meaning. He fist pumps, stopping and pivoting to face the docks. “I’ll take it!”

 

No.

 

Blake does not regret bringing Sun with her.

 

The sun disappears, and the world is cloaked in shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally come!
> 
> This is going to be a short collection of drabbles, all part of one story, for Blacksun Week 2018! Each chapter covers a volume of RWBY, with the last three mostly written with creative liberties on my part.
> 
> To contribute to Blacksun Week, tag us on tumblr (@blacksunweek2018).
> 
> Stay updated on my tumblr (@victoryisinasimplesoul).


	2. she was drinking tea in a garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't help but compare her to the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Two  
> Day Two: Tea (and/or) Double Date

It is during the second semester that Sun finally gets to start talking to Blake again. He introduces Neptune to her and the rest of her team after their video game of a food fight, but the interaction is brief, and the midnight haired faunus girl is the first to depart. He can’t help but feel a bit disappointed, and Neptune notices.

 

He finds her again in Vale’s public garden, sitting alone at a table under leafy greens that pierce the air and reach for the sky. They serve as an umbrella, shielding her from the sun, which beats down, casting a lens flare effect on the rest of the park. The sunlight reaches the tip of her chin and her hands, where a cup of tea is tightly clutched- he remembers that she likes tea from their time in the cafe- and a book, which lies flat on the table in front of her. Her eyes wander across the page, before swiftly turning to the next.

 

“Uh, hey Blake!” He lifts a hand in recognition, his voice cheerful in the hopes that she was already in a somewhat good mood. He leans a hand on the cafe table, donning a smile. Amber eyes meet his own, and they’re gentler than he expects. “Can I sit?” His fingers drum at her hesitance, and he can’t help but celebrate noiselessly when she closes her book, nodding. He slides into the empty chair across from her, resting his chin on his palm. There is more silence than he expects, and he decides to start a conversation, all the while tracing the rim of the table with his pointer finger. “So…” His eyes seek out hers again, “How’ve you been?”

 

She fiddles with her cup, swirling the tea inside around aimlessly. “Alright.” Her voice is soft, but the garden is quiet, disregarding the murmurs of a few other pedestrians. She sips a bit more of her beverage, which still gives off steam, before gently setting it down, and looking to Sun. “Well,” she leans in, “I’ve still been thinking about it.”

 

“The White Fang?” He asks, purposely lowering his voice. Her bow- ears- flick, affirmation enough. The simian pauses, tilting his head, his hair twisting in the faint breeze. He blinks, curious. “You want to go looking for that Torchwick guy, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He could read her, strangely enough.

 

Her knuckles go white as she grips the edge of her hardcover novel. “He just got away, Sun,” she rasps, Her teacup clinks against the table as it trembles in her other hand, the liquid making soothing sloshing noises as it moves. “Ruby and Weiss and Yang act as they’ve forgotten. But how can _I_?” Her words are laced with scorn, her teeth are gritted, and only then does she stare him in the eye. “I’m the only one who can stop him.”

 

The blonde is a bit taken aback. She was never this intense during the weekend he’d followed her. But, even with all of that, he understands. Sure, they had very different upbringings. She was born in the heart of an organization that she watched slip through her fingers, and he scrounged for the dust in the cracks of the sidewalks in blistering heat, but still; they were both Faunus. He speaks again, saying the only words that come to mind. “What’re you going to do?”

 

“That’s just it.” She releases her cup, and it drops to the table. Neither had even realized that she was holding it in suspension. She breathes heavily, and he subconsciously reaches out a hand for support. It shoots to her shoulder, and that’s when he notices that she’s shaking. “I don’t know.”

 

“Well-” he quickly retracts his hand, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Uh, how about we talk about something else?” He is patient, but she doesn’t realize his observance. He sees how she works herself up when she’s talking passionately about important matters, and how this can lead to her only upsetting herself. How she traditionally goes reclusive when her unspoken apologies fill the air.

 

There’s nothing wrong with those things, he just notices them.

 

He can’t help but compare her to the moon. It’s not just because of her color palette of choice. Despite her elusive nature, she still has a way of casting a glow on her surroundings. She’s cool and mature, and sure, maybe she’s a bit cold sometimes, but the night is always colder than the day. In his eyes, she glitters with the brilliance of the stars, maybe even brighter.

 

In her eyes, he sees the universe. He sees the way the sun casts light over the sea, the leaves as they shift from viridian to vermilion, the galaxies speckled with constellations as if they were freckles, and the universe as a whole, infinitely expanding.

 

And like the moon, she’s a bit shattered.

 

“Blake?”

 

But that’s okay.

 

Birds twitter as she hums in response, her expression still downcast, which Sun is determined to change.

 

“What kind of tea are you drinking?”

 

She smiles gently.

 

“Jasmine.”


	3. barely hanging on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn’t say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Three  
> Day Three: Parkour

She has met the embodiment of the sun. He is warm and welcoming, and he greets her with open arms each time they see each other. In the park, she swears that the breeze fades away when he arrives, as if he really is the burning star in the sky, ever so close to the moon, close enough for the gravitational pull to take effect.

 

Despite all of this, she knows Mars too.

 

She has known him for a while.

 

Admittedly, he is a foreigner to her now.

 

In their initial days, he was different. He wasn’t always Mars. He was full of spirit and drive, and something about the way he carried himself and his chokuto mystified her. It was as if he always tred a stone set path, his chin raised and shoulders back, concentration etched into his face.

 

Over time, the focus became a smug grin. His hand was almost always on the hilt of his weapon, his hair almost always surging with power rather than it’s natural red. His stance had changed. He still had a goal, sure, but she slowly began to fear it. He clenched his fists, he drew his blade, he began to speak of his wars, and the rest was history.

 

Perhaps she tried a bit too hard to find the old him before giving up. She gave him chance after chance, training session after session. It was no coincidence that cuts and bruises became more common, and most of their spars ended in blood, whether it was from her injuries, or her lip when he bit down on it. She never liked it, but as time passed, she found herself losing the will to fight back.

 

The will?

 

 _The guts_.

 

She _hated_ it.

 

She still did.

 

Tired of moving backward, she decides to give him one last chance. On the train, she listens and watches, hoping, begging no one in particular for the slightest trace of change. It is once their identities have been demanded, and they’ve faced and defeated a wall of androids does her mind break.

 

“Move on,” he commands, his voice devoid of the slightest hint of emotion, or of the version of his old self that is slipping away faster than the speed of light. “Go. I’ll set the charges.” Still nothing. How could he talk about such cruelty with his voice hollow? She didn’t understand. She doesn’t. Maybe she never did.

 

She stands, brushing tendrils of her hair behind her ear, panting heavily. She stumbles, attracting his gaze, which is obscured by his mask. She shrinks, holding her breath, and rooting her feet into the ground. He can’t see her like this. She won’t allow it. “And the crew members?” She asks, her voice strained. She knows that he can hear it. She knows that he can see it. She’s just fooling herself.

 

“What about them?”

 

The words ricochet in her mind, pinging like wind chimes. The question, which needs no answer, reverberates, rippling outwards. She stares. His name involuntarily falls from her lips, although it means nothing to her now.

 

Only then does she notice the large robotic creature before her. She blacks out. Her body is moving of its own accord, and then she’s in his arms. His hold is tight, rough, and uncomfortable, and it finally hits her that the road is reaching its end.

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Now her voice is the echo.

 

That is why she slits the cable connection, why her eyes linger on Adam Taurus and his gloved hand, which reaches out as their cars drift further and further apart, and why, after that, she doesn’t look back.

 

It is also why she misses him throwing down his mask.

 

 

* * *

 

This time, instead of waiting, she’s running.

 

Her body feeds on adrenaline. Later, the lack of energy will seep in, and she knows it. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about almost anything right now, because the sight of Yang Xiao Long’s marred flesh, crimson blood, and exposed bone runs through her mind on a loop. The image pursues her, and she can’t escape it.

 

She’s jumping from building to building, the heels of her boots leaving no signs of her presence other than a scuff or two. After another cat-like leap, she pauses to glance at the remains of a place, a tower that she had come to consider home. Her eyes narrow in confusion at the sight of the beastly grimm, now apparently frozen, but she shakes her head, landing another jump.

 

She has to get away.

 

She kneels when she hits the next roof, then takes off running again. This building is an apparent chain of apartments, so she has a while before the next gap. It gives her just enough time to catch her breath.

 

She remembers Weiss pressing her forehead to Yang’s, despite the dragon being unconscious. Rare tears fall from the heiress’ sky blue hues, and before they hit the skin of the once brilliant flame, they crystallize, shattering silently soon after.

 

 _No_.

 

The building rifts, and she skids, bracing herself and then bounding forward.

 

“ _It was about all of us until I had you_.”

 

She wants to scream. She wants to tell him to shut up, but he isn’t there. She knows that she wouldn’t have the courage anyways, and then she wants to scream again.

 

“ _It was about you and me until you betrayed us_.”

 

Her newly formed scar aches, sending waves of sheer agony through her body. She trembles, but she persists. She draws blood from her lip while gnawing at it, just as he used to. She can’t even tell if her aura is protecting her at this point. She deserves that.

 

“ _And now it’s about you, and you alone, my darling_.”

 

The ravenette knows for a fact that she’s crying, because she feels her eyes scorch in a way they never have. She feels the liquid brimming in the rim of her eyelids, and then she feels it streaming. Her tears are so different from Weiss’. Hers are tainted, selfish, and guilty. White noise builds in the back of her brain as she weeps for what she brought on upon her own loved ones.

 

“ _And I’m going to make you_ **_hurt_**.”

 

“Blake!”

 

And now she really wants to scream, because it just can’t be. But it is, because she would know his voice from a mile away. Her jaw falls, but the sound never leaves her mouth. Her throat is too dry, and her heart beats too quickly. She just manages to stop herself before the next jump, and against her mind’s advice, she turns, and her eyes are blinded by the sun’s light.

 

Sun stands, and he has never appeared so much as his namesake as he does now. He stands determined, following her path- _her_ path- with strength in his eyes, carrying himself in a way that she’ll never be able to understand. She doesn’t want to understand either, because she’s afraid. Afraid of smothering his rays with her unruly darkness, afraid that the blood pool will drown him.

 

He doesn’t say anything else, and yet he says plenty, which scares her more than she can ever hope to express. Nobody has ever understood her as he has. Nobody has ever been able to read her like she does her books. Nobody has ever had this sort of control over her. The willing, pure kind. The kind where she would do whatever he says without question, because she knows his heart is good, and he would never hurt her.

 

But she would hurt him.

 

Her heart weighs equivalent to bricks as she turns again, blocking out his voice. With a newfound agile vigor, she springs across the buildings like a true feline, her shadows aiding her as she runs.

 

She runs.

 

No mask falls.

 

She doesn’t say goodbye.


	4. her eyes saved his life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He decides to give sewing her back together his best shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Four  
> Day Four: Free Day

_She’s crying._

 

He knows that before his eyelids even flutter open, somehow. Yes, he hears the quiet sound of her stuttering breaths, but he knows even before then. There’s a tugging sensation in his chest. His heart is squeezing unpleasantly, and for a second, he feels like he can’t breathe.

 

“Blake?” He knows that she’s there, the question isn’t delivered with that intent. He wants to know who hurt her, and how he can fix it. Sure, he’s been doing a lot of that lately, but most of it unsuccessfully. Last he can remember, she scoffed at his offer to help. For a brief second, he almost wants to give up. He forces the thought away.

 

 _Never_.

 

“Do I even need to explain?” She whispers gently. Her head hangs, her bangs shielding her face from him. She’s upset with herself, he can tell, but somehow her voice is still soft. “This is why, Sun. This is why I left them all behind.” She makes her way to her feet, fists clenched with determination.

 

He sputters, confused, unaware of his surroundings. “Wait,” He props himself up on his forearm, trying desperately to make eye contact with her, “What are you even- where am I?” His voice is uncertain, and he switches from one topic to the next in rapid succession, like gunfire.

 

“Just stop,” she grunts, still not returning his look, “You know what I’m talking about.” He’s quiet. “I’m done seeing my friends hurt because of me.” He opens his mouth to respond, to assure her, but she lashes out. “Stop!” Her tone is venomous, and it scares him, but he continues to listen patiently. She needs this. “Do you- you can’t honestly think I like being alone, can you?” She delivers the words with no intent to hurt him. They’re sardonic, grim. She’s mocking herself. “I can’t stop thinking about them. Ruby. Weiss,” she stops, swallowing, “Yang. They were my family.” He cringes at the use of past tense. “I loved them so much, like nobody else.” She looks away sharply, narrowing her eyes. “I hope that they hate me for leaving them. Because _I_ certainly would. And I do.”

 

“Hey,” He speaks firmly, his back against the arm of the sofa, relying on the support it provides. His head hurts hearing her speak like this, because he knows it’s a lie. His free hand reaches out to her, giving him memories of the park back in Vale. “You know that’s not true-”

 

“Yes it _is_!” She spits with malice, filled to the brim with self-contempt. He flinches, faltering at the forceful snap. “What do you know? Honestly, why don’t _you_ hate me? Look at you!” She gestures wildly to his bandage, still bloodied, despite the scarlet having faded to maroon. She then slaps a hand to her forehead, pressing down onto it, as if against a migraine, “Why do you think that you can help me? No one can!” She sits, although it’s she almost falls. His stomach lurches. “I can’t handle anymore, and neither can they. They deserve better. Maybe it was too late for me to save Ilia, but I can save Ruby. I can save Weiss. Maybe I can save you.” She scratches at the opposite arm of the sofa with her nails, making him realize how far away she moved. “I made my choice, and I don’t regret it. That includes the consequences, and I’ll accept them, because they belong to me. No one else.”

 

He watches in horror as the moon continues to splinter, and that is exactly then when he decides to give sewing her back together his best shot. Sure, his phrasing will be blunt, but he knows it’s what she needs to hear. He knows her.

 

“You think you’re being selfless, but you’re not.”

 

She turns to him, her eyes widening slightly.

 

He jerks his head in the direction of his injured shoulder, tail at attention. “No one said you had to be a savior or a martyr. Yeah, okay, sure. Ilia got me pretty good,” he speaks lightly and clearly, emphasizing each word with care to get his point across. He doesn’t falter as he speaks again, maintaining perfect eye contact with her. “But hell, for you? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do it a thousand times over and then some.”

 

She appears stoic, but her ears betray her, turning to him, flicking as a part of her cycle of continuous shock.

 

“And I swear that Yang would say the same thing.” Her mouth falls softly, and she directs her line of vision to the floor, all words escaping her in this situation. She looks guilty, but he continues.

 

“I’m not stopping you from making your own decisions. I can’t.” His breaths are thick as he sits upwards, an action which requires effort due to his fatigue and soreness. “And you can’t stop me from making mine, or any of your friends from making theirs.” He sets his hands on his knees, his eyelids narrowed in on her. “We don’t fight for you because you force us to. We do it because we want to. So _stop_ pushing us out,” he flares, moving his elbows forward to rest his body weight on them, “It hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us.”

 

Silence.

 

He can’t take the silence.

 

He smirks to himself before he speaks again. “I don’t know if it changes anything, but next time I fight Lizard Girl, it’s not going to be to defend you. I think you’ve got that covered.” She turns to him, her eyes still big and curious. “It’ll be to get even.” He attempts his traditional finger guns, but this only further agitates his injury. He winces, gripping his left shoulder gently while groaning.

 

The pain vanishes as he hears her laugh.

 

It sounds like a fork clinking against a freshly polished glass, which reminds him of a chorus of angels. His heart flutters in his chest with the wings of a butterfly as she finally speaks up.

 

“My hero.”

 

He glances at her shyly, and now his jaw is the one dropping. His hand falls from his shoulder to his lap. He gulps in air, the breath feeling like a rush of ice water to his throat.

 

“I didn’t think you’d actually say it back,” he murmurs, thinking aloud. This catches her attention, and he feels his face flush desert rose. “I mean,” He catches her stare, coughing as she smiles, “Um. What?” He laughs awkwardly, his stance still tense.

 

She tilts her head, her smile wearing away, although her eyes still sparkle. “I think…” she muses wistfully, her eyes drifting to a faraway place, “I think I understand now.” She giggles again, and his stomach does a flip. “I was being a bit stubborn, on the ship. I’m sorry.” Her element of comedy fades.

 

“Nah it’s okay!” He grins with his eyes closed, waving his right hand to assure her. “It was a bit weird of me to follow you. I was probably kind of annoying.” He quirks an eyebrow, frowning. “But man, those slaps hurt. You can really pack a punch! Not that I doubted you, or anything, but, you know.”

 

Before he can fully process her actions, her arms are wrapped around his torso, and her face is buried against his collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, leaving him stunned as her words vibrate against his skin, small, but warm. “I’m so sorry,” she begins to shake, her speech separating oddly.

 

"Don't be."

 

His hand falls over the small of her back, and he runs his fingers up and down it absentmindedly. She shivers once, then cuddles against him. His face is bright red by now, and he’s glad that she can’t see it.

 

For all of the times that he has compared her to the moon, this moment feels, it  _is_ , paramount to their development. Because now, in this moment, he can feel himself crossing her path. He can feel the sun eclipsing the moon, he can feel the day following the night, and the continuation of the never-ending cycle.

 

The heat on his face spreads and settles evenly, and he leans against the couch, finding his eyes falling closed as he begins to drift off. He feels his muscles loosen and the tension in his chest disappear as he gives in to his immense amounts of exhaustion.

 

Before he does, he responds to her, his voice a hushed buzz, as he's almost sure that she’s asleep by now. “You know, this isn’t why I came here.” He almost wants to laugh, but it feels too good for him to wake her up, and for him to end what definitely had to be a dream. A world in which Blake Belladonna trusted him enough to let him hold her.

 

No, it wasn’t why he followed her across the ocean, to Menagerie.

 

Was he unhappy with it?

  
_Of course not_.


	5. as long as you can make a promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Five  
> Day Five: Sarcasm/Jokes

She can’t trust her own eyes.

 

She can’t believe that that the rose is blooming, that the frost is spreading, and that the embers she could’ve sworn faded are igniting, all before her eyes. She feels herself shake, and she croaks the only thing that comes to mind. “Yang?”

 

Then Ruby is screaming at the dragon to run, and the thief and the butcher are trying to stop her, but they can’t. No one can calm the flame that burns brighter than ever before. Never again. Maybe that’s why, with permission from the rose, Blake turns to leave. It's because she knows it’s not her place, and it really never was. She didn’t need to fan the flames, although the churning guilt inside of her stomach screeched otherwise.

 

As she rushes back out into the fray of the Menagerie Militia and the White Fang, a hand tightly encircles her wrist. Out of instinct, one hand grips Gambol Shroud as a distraction, followed by the blur of a roundhouse kick, after which, with the aid of her shadows, she glitches backward.

 

She is face to face with Mars, and she does her best to remember her time with her mother in the weeks before the boat ride to Haven. Now, her mother is safely on one of the Mistral airships, allowing her daughter to breathe easy.

 

“You,” he’s seething in between gritted teeth, his shoulders hunched and hands hanging at his sides as they rise and fall with his chest, “What did I tell you, Blake? I’m going to make you _suffer_. I’m going to make you regret ever coming back.” She knows that he wants to sound threatening, but he just sounds tired. She almost pities him.

 

She brushes it off, and she knows that it sounds like she’s trying to talk reason into him, as if she hadn’t tried that for years. “It’s too late for that,” her response is patient, which she doesn’t like, so she swells her chest to get the message across, leaving no doubts in his clouded mind. “The police are still arriving, and huntsmen are on alert. Not to mention,” she gestures to the Faunus of Menagerie with her free hand, “You don’t exactly have the upper hand in terms of numbers.”

 

She blinks as he laughs. His chuckle is malicious and maniacal, and he appears to tremble. “You haven’t changed at all,” he grins. “Still too afraid to face me on your own. Still a coward,” he’s spitting, and she can tell that he’s trying to convince himself. Her mind rolls back to their sparring sessions, but she blatantly ignores the memories.

 

But he’s wrong.

 

So she tells him.

 

“I’m here for Haven.” She keeps her voice level as she angles her chin upwards, her eyes disbelieving, and then she drops the bomb. “ _Not you._ ”

 

She knows that she’s under his skin now, and she barely has time to react before he’s shooting at her, and she realizes that try as she might, she can’t even remember the name of his weapon. He charges at her, rapidly sheathing and unsheathing his blade, aiming for her stomach. This forces her to jump backwards, after which she skids, relying on her heels for balance.

 

He’s in front of her again, pressing his chokuto against her katana. Her muscles vibrate from the tension, and she gasps for air, biting her lip in concentration. Her intense focus results in shock as he abruptly pulls back, swinging his sword and releasing a line of fire. She backsteps yet again.

 

He lets out a puff of air, a single, cruel laugh as he lowers his blade. He doesn’t see her as a formidable opponent, and she hates that even after all of this time, even after she’s over him, she’s still never going to be good enough to face him, and she knows it. “You’re terrified,” he observes, incorrectly, “You always were, and you should be.” He flails his arm, lacking resistance, in the direction of the ensuing chaos, not even sparing it a glance. “I’ve made powerful friends. Shame you weren’t beside me to meet them.”

 

“Where are they?” Blake speaks minutely, making a point of sheathing her katana. She wasn’t afraid. Her mother had made it her personal duty to work towards that in the past two weeks. “It’s a bold claim, but it doesn’t seem like you have anyone willing to fight for you.”

 

The gazes of both the feline girl and the bull rake the grounds of Haven, but all the crazed Taurus can see is his kneeling troops. The traitor- the chameleon girl- has knocked one of them out cold with her electrical whip, and he feels his blood boil. The ravenette before him catches his attention once more.

 

“You can try to make me regret all of my choices,” she’s calm, her eyes are glazed over, almost blase, “You can try to make me regret coming back. But honestly?” She raises an eyebrow, only her aura shielding her from withdrawing blood from her palms via her nails, “I’ve got more important things to deal with.”

 

The bull lets out a low growl, then a guttural bellow, surging forward again. He proceeds to pull his usual tricks, although something about him seems much more dangerous. He’s faster. His slashes are out of control. Pride flickers in her brain. She really did manage to disturb him. She clears her mind, shakily landing a desperate backward aerial before tossing her ribbon kusarigama behind her opponent. She pulls, swinging a good few meters away. If she could evade him enough to wear him out, then she could take him on her own.

 

“Remember the promise I made?” He snarls, in her face before she can process it at all. He somehow manages to converse with her and place extremely well-executed jabs simultaneously. “I haven’t forgotten. I swear to you, you are going to watch your friends and family bleed.” He pushes ferociously against her stance, his face and mask illuminated by the flying sparks, giving both an eerie glow. “And you’ll have to live knowing that it was _your fault_.”

 

_No._

 

She knows better now.

 

“You’re wrong!” She’s yelling, her throat raw, and grimacing as she knees his shins, kicking his legs out from under him, an action which ends up being only partially successful. She wants a fair fight, and he can’t give her that when he’s unstable like this.

 

She’s surprised at herself.

 

He has no control over her, and yet, she still finds herself choking.

 

Her eyes and the apples of her cheeks are hot, and she begins to breathe heavily. The familiar feeling of his suffocation returns, without him having to touch her. She feels her legs nearly give way, before countering his precise strikes, moving backward all the while. He was backing her into a corner, just as he always used to, and it was driving her crazy.

 

“When do you stop?” She cries out, firing at him aimlessly, her stomach flipping as the roots of his hair glow a bright red, along with the blade of his sword. He strikes her ankles with his weapon’s scabbard, and she drops to her knees.

 

“I don’t.”

 

 _Wilt and Blush_.

 

Bright gold flashes before her eyes, which she slowly raises, to find a translucent figure standing before her, arms crossed in front of their face. She finds that her trachea is clear, and she makes her way to her feet, although it is just then when everything clicks into place.

 

With a resounding battle cry, Sun is suddenly present. His clone disappears, and then he’s flipping in the air. The raging bull’s jaw scrapes the ground as the simian lands a powerful dropkick, forcing the furious redhead to his knees.

 

It was his turn.

 

All three of them stand in an instant. The team of two surround the chokuto wielder, whose wrath and spite are undeniable. He inhales deeply, raising his blade to the same level as the blonde’s throat. “Tell me,” he begins, his tone surprisingly even, “Does Blake make all of her classmates fight for her?”

 

“Nah,” Cream colored hair ruffles as the male in question flips his bo staff, leaning the crook of his elbow on the golden and crimson intricacies of his weapon of choice, “It’s a volunteer gig. We do it because we want to.”

 

The bull shouts as he fires shots in rapid succession, additionally swinging his sword, which the monkey blocks with his gunchucks as soon as he brings them out, shooting ammunition of his own.

 

She forces against her opponent with her weapon, using both hands, pressing forward and sending him into a fleeing frenzy. He runs for the maze, disappearing within the leafy greens in a second. The day’s embodiment pursues, but she calls out his name. “Wait!”

 

“He’s running away! We can take him! Come on!” He holds his hands out, eyes wide, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He hesitates when he sees her sheath her weapon, her stance relaxing as she approaches him.

 

“It’s a trap. He’s planning to draw us away so we’ll split. We’ll be unprepared, and he’ll pick us off. Our priority should be the school and the people here. It always was.” She sighs, gaze narrowing. “Besides. Now he knows what it’s like to run.” Her ears turn to the bright male before her, and her amber eyes fill with appreciation as she smiles genuinely. “Thank you.”

 

He shines even brighter, returning her grin. “Eh, we all need a bit of help sometimes! I-” he’s interrupted by the sound of a clashing metal and loud buzzing. He stares to the school’s entrance, before turning back with resolve. “They could definitely use yours.”

 

He moves to run off, but she catches his shoulder, planting her hand to keep him in place, if not for only a brief second. He’s surprised, but he stops, willing to listen. Only for her.

 

“Please. Be careful.”

 

His heart thuds, and he smirks, sarcasm and teasing filling his voice.

 

“No promises.”

 

He runs.

 

But not from her.


	6. then he fell in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He understood her, but she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Six  
> Day Six: Words

The embodiment of the Sun, followed by the waters of Neptune, is rushing through Mistral’s grand train station. He is scampering, with a good handle on his breath. Yes, he appreciated the extra sleep that he received, but it wasn’t worth missing the Moon’s departure for. Grinning as he catches a glimpse of a familiar tawny ponytail and a head of raven waves, he bolts up the stairs, on to the platform where they stand.

 

He hears the freckled chameleon bring him up, and exhaling a final time, he leans on the nearest railing, jumping into the conversation. He echoes his name, drawing both of their gazes to him. “I’m right here!” He grins as Ilia nods in his direction, permitting the black cat to converse with him. “What?” He gestures with his hands, leaning forward, “There’s no way I’d miss your big send off!”

 

“We got here two minutes ago,” the smug words of his blue-haired friend ring out from behind him. “He overslept by an hour and complained the entire way here. He definitely almost missed this.”

 

The blonde jumps, having forgotten his friend’s presence the minute he saw the black haired girl. The sight of her was accompanied with that all too familiar uncomfortable feeling in his chest, although it was somehow different this time. He spins to face his teammate, pouting and shoving a finger against his own lips in mock frustration. “Sh!” He ends with a growl, pushing his companion backward. His heart thuds as her light, amused laughter fills his ears.

 

Neptune retaliates, shoving the Sun back toward the Moon. “Hey,” he greets, his voice suave, something that still hadn’t changed a bit. Something in his tone speaks ‘mischief’ to the golden-haired male, but he ignores it. “Would you quit taking your sweet time? Need I remind you, we have our own trip to plan!” He stops. “Oh,” is followed by a pause, during which the blonde looks rapidly back and forth between his friend and the Moon’s, “I didn’t know Ilia was going to be here.” The same blonde scowls as he is elbowed out of the way yet again, his stomach colliding with the railing. The god of the seas saunters off, winking and holding up a hand. “I almost didn’t see you there!” His voice grows distant, “Because, you know, the camouflage.”

 

Breaking the awkward strain between herself and the day, the night mumbles quietly, “Wrong tree,” while holding out a powerless hand in Neptune’s direction. She sighs, her expression one of relinquishment. She pulls her fingers back, her hand falling to her side.

 

He waves it off, turning back to the glass of the railing, which she does as well. “He’ll figure it out,” he assures. He knows his friend very well. Reuniting with him after such a long time was a relief, there was no doubt about it. He’d missed the dork.

 

But he’d miss her too.

 

“So,” she drawls, moving a bit closer to him, their shoulders nearly touching, “You’re really going to Vacuo?” He blinks, turning his head to her. He’s surprised. For the first time in, well, forever, he can’t read her. Her voice seems almost _sad_ , but that can’t be it. She had to be happy to be back with her friends; her team.

 

“That’s it!” He cheers, enthusiastic. He lifts a hand as he talks. “When I saw you with Ruby, Weiss, and Yang, I kind of realized that I’m, like, the worst leader to walk the face of Remnant.” He laughs to himself, cupping his hand over his forehead. “It was really hard to stay in touch with my team because of the tower and all that, but now we’re back, and we’ve gotta make up for lost time.” He doesn’t miss her smile during his monologue. “Shade’s pretty safe right now, and I haven’t been home in a while. I can show the boys around my old stomping grounds!” He smacks his fist into his palm.

 

His eyes dart up, but when she speaks, he looks back. She’s straightening upright to stand beside him. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she speaks timidly, the corners of her lips continuing to curve upwards, “It’s definitely going to be a change, not having you around.”

 

He strikes a dramatic pose, right out of a comic book, hands on hips. Lifting his chin proudly, he lets out an exclamation. “I go where I’m needed!” She giggles for the second time within their conversation, and the tips of his ears burn. He relaxes, his tail flicking as he grows softer and more genuine. “Besides,” he shrugs knowingly, aware of the impact of his words, “You don’t need me anymore.” Soft music is playing, the work of a talented street performer, who he made sure to tip on his way up the stairs. In his trance, he doesn’t notice her expression.

 

“Don’t put it like that,” she whispers, unable to meet his eyes, “It sounds…” for a brief instant, amber meets the gaze that is still a mystery, either one of a cloudy sky or a salty ocean, as she finishes with “...Sad.” Her ears droop, telling him plenty. She startles at the cautious feeling of his comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“Look,” he begins, “Forget about the fights and drama, and all of that stuff,” he hesitates, “And the near-death experiences too!” He rolls his eyes playfully, but notices as she fights back another smile- which _of course_ he does- “I had a lot of fun!” His hand falls, and he aims it in the direction of her friends below. “But you’re with them, and that’s where you’re supposed to be.” He snickers as the fire dragon and the rose pull at a bag, while the goddess of lightning fist pumps, shrieking with laughter. What he’d said at Beacon still held true. He still loved them all. He almost found himself wanting to go with them.

 

“Sun,” he turns back, hopeful at the sight of her perked up ears, her mellow smile, which had returned, and the usage of his name. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.” A wave of confusion washes over her face, and she stumbles over her words. “I’m still, um-”

 

“You’re still working stuff out. I know. I totally get it,” he replies in reassurance. He’s not even sure what he’s saying it for, but he wants to cheer her up for her big trip to Argus. “You can do it with them, though.” His tail twitches as he looks over the opposite side of the balcony, forcing his eyes away from her. “But in the future? Who knows!” He shifts his weight, pivoting towards her a bit. He makes a fist, smirking, eyebrows angling in a show of determination. “I’ve got a good feeling you haven’t seen the last of me.”

 

She tilts her head innocently.

 

“I certainly hope not.”

 

Stepping closer, she raises herself onto her toes, lifting one foot to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He is left breathless, while she breathes, quickly, warmly, against the side of his face. He feels his face flush and his heart pulsate.

 

“I-” she stops herself, backing away respectfully, bowing her head.

 

Before she can make a movement, he does, wrapping his arms around her back, and hiding his face in her shoulder. She flinches, frozen in shock. Then she thaws, recovering quickly, and places her arms around his shoulders, interlocking her hands behind his neck. Neither of them is sure how long they stay like that. All they care about is the beating of each other’s hearts, strangely soothing in the moment.

 

Blake is the one to pull away. She opens her mouth to speak that dreadful word, the one he doesn’t want to hear. Instead, she’s silent.

 

What if the word doesn’t apply here?

 

“See you later.”

 

She’s gone.

 

Moments later, he’s headed down the stairs, Neptune once more at his side. The blue-haired boy’s hands are behind his head, and a look that the simian can’t quite place is on his face. He appears upset. He gives the silence an answer as he speaks up.

 

“I don’t know, man,” he says, his voice surprisingly serious and understanding. “It just kinda feels like you’re letting her go.”

 

Those words did hurt.

 

But how true were they?

 

That wasn’t why Sun followed her, and despite part of him knowing he likely wouldn’t see her again for a long time, maybe ever, he stays firm, unchanging in his convictions. Sure, he’d been mistaken about her mission, what he’d initially thought to be a one-woman crusade, but he’d tried his best to help her nonetheless, and generally, he’d succeeded.

 

But he isn’t stupid.

 

He notices things, right? So he noticed how his heart squeezed in his chest when he saw her those brief nine minutes ago, and he notices the lingering, bittersweet discomfort now that she’s gone. He felt the warmth that enveloped his face when she kissed him. It had spread to his fingers and toes, almost giving off heat. He noticed it all.

 

He understood her.

 

 _But she was gone_.

 

Would he ever even see her again?

 

Choosing his words carefully, he responds, slumping. His chest is weighed down, seeing as his heart is heavier than it ever has been.

 

“It was never about that.”


	7. the moon fell in love with the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She begins to weep as she realizes her relapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Seven  
> Day Seven: Dance!AU (and/or) Thief!AU

She’s still tired.

 

She sits on the wooden floor of the bunk cabin, running a rag over the blade of Gambol Shroud, although it’s already polished until the point of sparkling. The cloth is dry now, it has been for a while. She’s lost track of how long she’s been sitting here, how long she’s let the sore feeling seep into her muscles, how long she’s been staring vacantly at the point where the wall intersects the floorboards. Her sheath lays forgotten, a few feet away, under the nearest bed. The bed isn’t her own, but it’s still empty.

 

As she rubs at the side of her sword, she tries desperately to snap out of her haze, willing herself to _feel_ something, anything, but she just can’t. Her shoulders are paperweights. She has the composure of a broken doll.

 

She blinks.

 

No change.

 

 _God dammit_.

 

She hurls her katana to her side, her fists shaking as she clenches them. She inhales heavily, drawing each breath as if she’s about to faint, which she might. She comes to rely on her thighs rather than her knees for balance while she leans against the bedpost, staring out the window at the raging crystalline blizzard outside.

 

How fitting.

 

Eventually, after another amount of time that remains a mystery to her, she makes her way to her feet, relying on the nearby wooden peg for balance. Her first step is shaky, but her second is an improvement. Leaving her weapon behind, she pushes herself forward, as a sort of launch. At first, she stumbles. She then adjusts her stride, kicking her boots off before she makes her way into the halls.

 

She emerges into absolute silence, spare the creaking beneath her feet here and there. She creeps down the corridor, her back flat against the wall as if she has something to hide from, something to be afraid of, as she should. Her eyes have been playing tricks on her ever since she split the cable car on the way to Argus, as if the action of severing a train wasn’t already familiar enough. She didn’t protest that the task was given to her, even though the blooming rose had a scythe.

 

She instantly regrets the thought.

 

 _Ruby_.

 

As her eyes scrape the floor, she notices the staining drops of currant colored liquid scattered at random. They were dried by now, but their presence was still haunting. Staring at them was accompanied by the sound of the silver eyed girl’s traumatized screams. This was true for anyone who had been present at the disaster that they called ‘The Battle of Atlas’, or what Blake was sure was her greatest failure as not only a huntress but a Faunus as well.

 

She bites her lip desperately, turning her head away from nothing. He wouldn’t want her to think like this, she knows that. He would’ve reminded her that there was only so much she could do, and that her friends would fight their own battles, whether it was lifting a brightly colored duffel bag or fighting a scorpion with only their fists and their metallic husk of a once crescent moon. That’s what he would say.

 

But he wasn't here.

 

“ _An eye for an eye_.”

 

She shivers.

 

She can’t help it.

 

She had been so close. She could’ve prevented it. She should have. All it would’ve taken was a round of ammunition and a flick of the wrist, but she’d been too preoccupied with a mint haired thief’s tears. She was distracted by a mirror, in which she saw a reflection of her younger self. In that moment, she wanted so badly to help the diamond in the rough, but both were stuck.

 

Then the screaming started, followed by the pained sobbing.

 

Then, she wanted to help Ruby.

 

“No, no,” she mutters to herself, trying in vain to forget, grabbing at her hair on the sides of her head as her ears flattened in distress and anger. She nearly trips, like a drunk, like a certain guardian crow the night prior. Jeering voices hiss from behind her. “Get _out_ ,” she spits. Who was she even talking to?

 

As she mumbles to herself, pacing, knowing how stupid she must look, she digs her heel into the ground, stopping herself with an abrupt motion. She can just make out the sound of muffled, consistent footsteps from the other side of the door, as well as soft music, although she can’t tell if there are any lyrics or if the track is instrumental.

 

She moves towards the door, silent and stealthy, and pushes the block of wood with the same amount of decibels; next to none. She is ushered into the main foyer, although she hides, peering with a single golden eye.

 

Her amber irises widen in surprise at the sight of the summer dragon and the winter’s warrior with their bodies close, as heat and cold waltz in what almost appears to be an elegant duel of equal forces. The hands of the pugilist are unusually delicate dangling on the waist of the knight, whose arms are securely tightened around the former’s back, latching on for comfort, her touches affection starved. They sway in synchronization to the pulsating beat, shifting their weight from heel to heel, forehead against forehead, legs intertwined, and chests flush up against each other.

 

The Moon feels guilt at interrupting the moment, although they don’t seem to notice her, both their heads in the clouds. Then she stiffens at the realization, because she didn’t _know_. She’d missed too much in the time she’d spent wallowing in her own self-pity to notice how their relationship had changed. Then there’s frustration, because she’s stopped herself from having any kind of meaningful relationship with any of them since she returned, and it’s all her fault. Then she’s lonely again, and she wants to sink to her knees, because the cycle never seems to end.

 

In light of Yang and Weiss’ slow dance, her mind rolls back to her own dance with the Sun during the second semester, which now feels like a distant memory. She remembers her initial rejection, her hostility, and how much she ended up enjoying herself.

 

She recalls her hand on his, the other on his shoulder, and his other placed lightly on her waist, as if he was afraid that he’d break her, or at least that’s what she’d thought as they stepped clumsily to the music, both giggling at each other’s naivety.

 

It was never the truth, though.

 

She was the one to break him.

 

She begins to weep as she realizes her relapse.


	8. when the day met the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They eclipse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Volume Eight  
> Day Eight: Battle Scars (and/or) Soulmates!AU

He stands eagerly at the half-empty docks, bouncing on his heels, tail swishing, unable to sit still. He’s consistently looking from left to right, his patience running thin. He’s been waiting for what, almost a year now? He doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. The heat doesn’t help, although, being a Vacuo native, he barely feels a thing, while his friends still sweat all throughout the day.

 

Speaking of friends, he has no idea where Sage and Scarlet are. They ran off together at some point, probably to get food, as he had his team going through intense training daily, and that included the morning before they’d arrived. Neptune stands beside him, appearing amused at his anxiousness.

 

“Dude, chill out,” Neptune says, for what can’t be the first time that day. He’s completely relaxed. His arms are folded over his chest and one foot is propped against one of the harbor’s many concrete walls. Unlike his blonde companion, he spares a glance every few minutes and spends the rest of his time fiddling with his scroll or his clothing, which he had purchased after a single day in the Vacuo heat. “You used to talk to her, like, all the time. This is the same thing.”

 

“Yeah, but this is way different,” Sun scoffs, rejecting the idea. “I haven’t seen her since Mistral! I don’t know what happened in Atlas. Something big could’ve gone down!” It's then when he begins to rethink his words. He really has no idea what happened. All he knows from the letter that he received is that she and her team are coming and that they’ll explain when they arrive. Are they even okay? The letter was from Qrow, who he barely knew. There was barely anything about any of the girls, let alone Blake.

 

“Geez,” The blue-haired male sighs, his eyes unfocused as he gazes over out over the perfectly flat ocean, which doesn’t seem to faze him at all, “You’re worked up over nothing. I’m sure she missed you too, now can you calm down? You’re actually making me nervous.” He pushes himself off of the wall, beginning to walk toward the corner. “I’m going to go catch up with Sage and Scar. See you later.”

 

The simian barely acknowledges his statement, electing instead to shrug as he leans over the railing, hovering. He remembers his farewell at the train station in Mistral, and he shudders, despite the boiling temperature. He hopes that team RWBY has come prepared for the weather, seeing as they’ll be fresh from Atlas, Vacuo’s polar opposite. Maybe he could give them a few tips and pointers on surviving the weather.

 

He snaps to attention as he catches a waft of saltwater on the breeze, looking up to see a ship on the smaller side pulling into the docks at a comfortable speed. He grips the railing with such ferocity that his knuckles go white. He finds himself bouncing again, although his small hops have evolved into full-blown leaps by now. He bounds down the docks, to the edge, where he stands, hands on hips, grinning wildly.

 

The moment is rather anticlimactic, as the boat takes its sweet time to reach the port, anchor, and finally, allow the passengers, of which there are few, to disembark. They do so in a nearly single file line, as the bridge is narrow, and the ship isn’t a cruise. He exhales, exasperated, and turns over his shoulder, anticipating that the wait hasn’t ended yet.

 

He is proven wrong when a subdued voice calls out his name, to which he rotates yet again, giving an eager wave. He rushes forward to give friendly hugs to both of the familiar faces as exit the watercraft. They seem to harden as he wraps his arms around them at the same time, but they eventually slacken, each setting a hand on his back. When he pulls away, he observes that the faces of both the summer and winter are blank and inexpressive, to which he tilts his head.

 

Without a greeting, he instantly jumps to questions. “Hey, are you guys okay?” He asks. Now that their team is here, he is patient again, as he feels like he has all the time in the world. His hands fall from their shoulders, his eyes filling with concern, more so by the minute. Each second of silence constricts his chest with worry.

 

After they exchange a glance, the ex-heiress to the Schnee Dust Company finally speaks up. “ _We_ are,” her eyes hit the stone below their feet in shame as she lowers her voice to an audible mutter. “It’s just that-” her breath catches in her chest as she stops herself. With a comforting nod, the sunny dragon encourages her to go on. “It’s just that not all of us can say the same,” she continues, balling her fists, “But it’s not my place to tell you.” She reaches for her companion’s hand, a gesture that is returned. She pivots on her heel, swiftly fanning her flushed cheeks as she makes her way back to the boat.

 

“We’re going to get our bags and head to the bus stop,” the blonde pugilist informs as she is tugged away. Her tone is understanding. “I’m sure they’ll talk about it.” She is cut off after that, and he is left standing alone in confusion, abandoned for the third time that day.

 

“Sun?”

 

And with a single word, his heart is racing, his face is cherry, and his sense of balance is thrown off. These symptoms have definitely grown since he realized their roots, but he’s learned not to mind them anymore. It’s to be expected since he hasn’t seen her in so long. Hair the color of ink dances in the corner of his vision, and he whips around so quickly that he almost falls.

 

But then his heart sinks, because at first glance, she seems so _broken_. Her pupils are heavily dilated, to the point where her irises are barely a ring of gold. She’s quivering, and not because of her body temperature or any apparent emotion. She’s shaking, like her body is on autopilot. He stares in horror as she returns the favor, unmoving, except for her occasional trembles.

 

Without thinking, he springs, pulling her against him in an embrace and shielding her from whatever. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t flinch, her hands unmoving. She rocks onto her heels when his body hits hers, and as he cranes his neck to rest his head on her shoulder, he feels her breaths as they come and go, slow and steady. Silence bites at the both of them, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t care about anything at that moment except for her.

 

“It’s always my fault,” she whispers, sounding as if she doesn’t want to be heard. “Why is everything always my fault?” She abruptly clings to him, hiding her face in his chest, her eyes closed, begging for comfort as shudders continue to ripple down her spine. The lack of tears is almost strange in this situation, but he knows her, and she’s never been one to cry. The night is always silent.

 

It doesn’t mean he’ll allow her to think that way.

 

He never did.

 

“What happened?” He replies carefully, rubbing his fingers together in hesitance before they move to stroke her hair. By now, he’s facing the ocean, blankly regarding the water as they exchange incomplete phrases. Years ago, she would’ve never let him get this close to her.

  
Things change.

 

“Ruby has an eyepatch,” She says simply, her words muffled, but their intention clear. He freezes. His blood, which now feels like it’s boiling, rushes in his ears. “She keeps saying that she likes it. That it makes her look brave.” Blake collects his jacket in her fingers, gripping it tightly. “I want to cry every time she says it. Because it’s my fault.”

 

She goes on to talk about how they lost both relics, and the heavy injuries that their party sustained, some physical, and some mental. Some temporary, and some permanent. All the while, he feels his heart hurt more and more in his chest, and then it breaks when she ties it back to herself again, uttering repetitive ‘what if’s like a chipped record.

 

Then they’re walking to the bus stop, and he has to fight to pry his eyes away from the rose because no matter how cheerful she acts, he still sees a wilting stem and petals in the place where there was once a hungry, curious flower, and he _hates_ it.

 

He reaches for the Moon’s hand.

 

Neptune, Sage, and Scarlet have caught up to them, as the Sun gave them a heads up via his scroll. They had expressed excitement at seeing the night again, as they had been closer to her than any other Beacon student, but at the sight of her, they nod in understanding, scattering to give the two their space.

 

* * *

 

On the bus ride, which is set to be hours long, to the team SSSN residence, the cream-haired huntsman takes the ravenette huntress’ jacket into his arms for her, as she had quietly expressed discomfort. He’d told her that they would need new outfits, and she humored him with a nod for a response. He appreciates that she's trying.

 

The vehicle thumps here and there, but it doesn’t stop her from drifting off. He refuses to move in the slightest. For one, he’s in the window seat, but the paramount reason is that her head is resting on his shoulder, and she deserves a rest, for once in her life.

 

He notices Ruby, Weiss, and Yang watching, but they say nothing.

 

He just nods.

 

When they arrive, he waits the full extra ten minutes before carefully shaking her awake. She yawns, her ears perking up as she shakes her head and stretches. He insists that the bus will take them back to the docks if they don’t get up and go. She’s silent, so without second thought, he lifts her into her arms, thanking the bus driver on the way out.

 

Not knowing where else to take her, as they haven’t established rooms, he brings her to his own for the time being. She’s half-awake, drowsy, but conscious. He still doesn’t want to disturb her, so he sets her on his bed, leaving the blankets untouched. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turns to leave to tell the rest of his team to stay away from the bunks for the time being. Before he can close the door, she stirs.

 

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, rubbing at her eyelids and squinting. She elevates herself on her elbows, peering in expectancy. She looks as if she has more to say, but she doesn’t. She just pushes herself against the headboard, pulling her knees against her chest.

 

He stays.

 

He sits beside her, not before laying her white tailcoat at the foot of the bed. She leans against him, and then, if not for just a little, he welcomes the silence. Her breathing is soft and his is rugged. They cancel each other out. He captures her hand, tracing circles on the back of her palm. His eyes move up her arm, and they catch sight of several gruesome scars, which are now exposed, hidden in few places by her black crop top, which crisscrosses across her collarbones. The scars still carry secret stories despite their fading.

 

He runs a single finger around them, cautious not to directly make contact. This elicits a shiver, but she doesn’t tell him to stop. She encourages it with a swerve of her chin. “How did you get this?” He exhales, his words light, bouncing off of their surroundings.

 

“An Ursa,” she tells him, her chest rising and falling, “I wasn’t used to being on my own. I wasn’t watching my back.” She pauses. “I learned.” As he gently taps her back, indicating different scars, some more faded than others, she explains them each. One stretching around her waist is recent, from a grimm invasion in Mantle. One on the small of her back is from a King Taijitu. He skips over the one on her stomach, stopping at her collarbone.

 

“What about this one?”

 

She swallows, dreading, but explains nonetheless. “He was angry,” she remarks, shifting her position as he stiffens. Her ears flatten in shame. “We were sparring, I thought out loud, he got upset,” she sighs, “That’s it. I don’t think he meant for it to happen.” She catches her partner’s expression. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

He raises an eyebrow. “The scar?”

 

She stops.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

He leans over to her ear, pressing a short kiss to the corner of her jaw before telling her, “You are so much more than your scars, Blake.” At the ensuing quiet, he swings his feet over the bed, taking it as a cue to leave.

 

He makes it about halfway across the floor before she’s in front of him, maybe with the aid of her shadows. He opens his mouth to ask, but he doesn’t get the chance, because she’s grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and then pressing her lips against his.

 

His eyes widen in shock, but at the same time, everything feels too right. His hands and tail settle naturally on her waist, and then he’s kissing her back, and _oh gods_ he never wants to leave. His heart is somehow going a million miles a minute and yet it refuses to beat at all. He’s skipping, and she’s leading him by the hand, and he doesn’t care where they’re going, because he’ll follow her anywhere, because that’s what the day does for the night.

 

When she finally breaks away, she presses her face into his shoulder, and Sun grins, reflecting her as he feels her smile against his skin. Somehow, he knows exactly then that everything is going to be okay. It has to be.

 

And as it turns out, Blake wants to follow him too.

 

Her one word of choice says enough.

 

“Stay.”

 

Because she always had a choice.

 

And she chose him.

 

They eclipse.

**Author's Note:**

> The time has finally come!
> 
> This is going to be a short collection of drabbles, all part of one story, for Blacksun Week 2018! Each chapter covers a volume of RWBY, with the last three mostly written with creative liberties on my part.
> 
> To contribute to Blacksun Week, tag us on tumblr (@blacksunweek2018).
> 
> Stay updated on my tumblr (@belladonnnas).


End file.
